


The Music of the Night

by bfketh



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate History, Alternate Universe - Phantom of the Opera Fusion, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Eventual Smut, Everybody Lives, M/M, Minor Violence, Polyamory, Superstition, Threesome - M/M/M, no love triangles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-12 04:20:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7085464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bfketh/pseuds/bfketh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every theater needs at least one ghost.</p><p>Some of the appeal is that it’s part of the luck of the place, theater folk being a superstitious lot. Something to blame for the many small and unexplained occurrences of ill-fortune that plague any stage production. Sometimes, too, it is a reassuring thing; a sense of something looking out for the building and the cast and crew that toil within it.</p><p>The rest of the “why” of the ghost is that everyone loves a good story...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Rehearsal

“So, I was up in the fly loft, hanging the new backdrops, when my foot slipped. I was sure I was done for right then.” Connie pantomimed teetering for his small but appreciative audience. “Then, just as I was about to fall, I felt a hand on my suspenders yank me back onto the catwalk. Took me a bit to catch my breath, and when I did, I looked around to see who had saved me, but I was completely alone. And then I saw it.” Connie leaned forward, and his listeners did the same. “Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the tail of a black cloak whipping around a corner. But when I followed, there was nothing there but a blank wall, and no way down.”

“Springer!” The sharp voice cracked through the silence following Connie’s announcement, and everyone gathered backstage jumped. Eren peered around Connie’s shoulder to see Levi scowling at them with his arms crossed. Oluo, the repetiteur, stood just behind him, imitating his stance. “Stop trying to scare the piss out of everyone right before rehearsal.”

“I wasn’t! This really happened this morning!”

Levi just rolled his eyes and stalked toward the stage. 

Left behind, Oluo clapped his hands sharply at everyone to shoo them to the stage. “Hurry up, you brats! This is our first full dress rehearsal, and the new owners are coming today. I won’t have you embarrassing me!” 

Reiner elbowed Eren as they made their way to the rest of the dancers. “Two francs says that he bites his tongue in front of them and embarrasses himself.”

Eren snorted. “I’ll pass. I don’t take bets that are sure losses.”

 

It turned out, that Eren actually would have been safe taking that bet. They made it through the first half of their rehearsal of Chalumeau's "Hannibal,” up until the appearance of the huge mechanical elephant. At the end of the scene, Shadis, the old owner, clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention. “Ladies and gentlemen, as you know, for several weeks there have been rumors of my imminent retirement. As of today, all the papers have been signed and filed, and I’d like to introduce you to the new owners of the Opera Populaire, Erwin Smith and Mike Zacharius.” 

Both men were tall and blond, and impeccably dressed in fashionably-cut suits. They nodded at the gathered company, and there was polite applause from the assembled actors, dancers, musicians, and stagehands. Some of the chorus girls tittered behind their hands as they blinked up at the new owners.

Shadis continued, “Our director isn’t here today, but I’d like to introduce you to our lead soprano for the last five seasons, Petra Ral.”

Petra, dressed in the full regalia of Queen Elissa, stepped forward. Erwin smiled at her. “Of course. I’ve seen all your greatest roles, Miss Ral.”

Petra blushed and murmured, “Thank you.” Eren glanced over at Oluo to see him briefly frown.

Shadis waved Levi forward. “And this is our lead tenor, Levi Ackerman.”

Mike nodded. “An honor, Mr. Ackerman.”

Erwin looked thoughtful. “If I remember correctly, Elissa has a rather fine aria in Act Three of ‘Hannibal.’ I wonder, Miss Ral, if, as a personal favor, you would oblige us with a private rendition?” Erwin paused, something mischievous twinkling behind his blue eyes. “Unless, of course, Mr. Bossard objects?”

Petra smiled. “My manager commands. Oluo?”

Oluo answered her with an elaborate bow. “My diva commands. Will two bars be enough introduction?”

At Petra’s nod, Oluo placed himself at the piano. As Petra sang, Levi stared up into the rafters.

The tenor’s eyes went wide, and he shouted, “Look out!” He dove for Petra, pushing her to the floor. Half a breath later, one of the backdrops crashed down where Petra had been standing.

The stage erupted in chaos. Petra wasn’t hurt, but Levi’s leg had been caught by the heavy roll of canvas and wood. He was helped to a sofa in one of the offices while a doctor was sent for. Meanwhile, the chief stagehand was summoned. Farlan swore that no one had been in the flies when the backdrop had fallen, leading to another uproar interspersed with cries of “The Phantom!”

In the midst of the chaos, Shadis shook Erwin and Mike’s hands in turn. “Well, I don’t think there’s much more I can do to assist you, gentlemen. Good luck! If you need me, I’ll be in Frankfurt.”

With that, he left, and the company anxiously turned to their new managers. Nanaba, the ballet mistress, stepped forward. “Sirs? I have a message for you, from the Opera Ghost.”

Erwin and Mike exchanged a look, and Erwin asked, incredulous, “The theater’s ghost...leaves you messages?”

“Oh, yes, he’s very regular about it.” Nanaba pulled a piece of paper out of her waistcoat and unfolded it. “He welcomes you to his opera house and requests that you continue to leave Box Five empty for his use. He also reminds you that his salary is due.”

Mike tilted his head. “His salary?”

“Yes. Mr. Shadis paid him one hundred francs a month. Perhaps you can afford more, with the Vicomte Kirschstein as your patron.”

A new wave of noise swept through the company. Eren’s chest tightened at the mention of the once-familiar name.

Erwin shot Nanaba a reproachful glance. “Madam, I had  _ hoped _ to be the one to share that news.”

Nanaba simply shrugged, unperturbed. Just then, the doctor appeared on the edges of the stage. Mike went over and consulted with him, too quietly for anyone to hear, and when he returned, the news was not good. “Mr Ackerman’s leg isn’t broken, but it’s badly sprained. He’ll need to stay off it for several weeks, at least.”

Erwin quickly asked Nanaba, “Who is Mr. Ackerman’s understudy for his role?”

“No one yet - this is a new production.”

Erwin ran a hand back through his carefully combed hair and turned to Mike. “Opening tomorrow night with a full house, and we’ll have to cancel. Can you believe it?!”

Mikasa stepped forward from the dancers. “Eren can sing the part.”

At her quiet announcement, Eren found all eyes on him. “I, um, I’ve been practicing the role.”

Nanaba brightened up. “Oh, that’s right! Eren Jaeger is the other tenor in our company; he usually understudies for Mr. Ackerman. He hasn’t been needed before now, but he’s an excellent singer.”

Erwin and Mike both considered him, and then Erwin nodded. “All right, Mr. Jaeger. Consider this your audition. Let’s hear what you’ve got.”

Eren took a deep breath, opened his mouth…

And sang.


	2. An Angel

Eren made his way backstage after the final curtain call, his legs feeling a little wobbly under him as the adrenaline from his performance faded away. Playing the lead in front of an audience had been exhilarating, exciting, and _terrifying_.

He couldn’t wait to do it again.

Petra was standing near the entrance to the hall leading to the dressing rooms, handing out roses from her bouquet to the ballet girls. As he passed her, she handed one to Eren with a mouthed, “Good job!”

Eren smiled his thanks and continued toward his dressing room when a measured _thumping_ behind him made him stop and turn. Levi was making his way down the hall, his coat draped over one arm and a cane taking his weight off his injured leg. As soon as he was in conversational distance, he opened his mouth. “Your legato in the third act needs work. Other than that, it wasn’t bad.”

“You were _watching_?!” Eren snapped his jaw shut as soon as he blurted out the question. Levi was obviously dressed for the opera; of course he’d been watching the production.

“No, I just had to take a shit and I like the water closets here better than the one in my home,” Levi answered dryly. “Anyway, Hanji was talking about finding an operetta for you and Lenz during the off-season. They’ve been wanting to give Christa a leading role for a while, but I’m more suited to being her father than her lover.”

“What? You’d be totally fine opposite her.”

Levi snorted. “Flattery. I was playing Tannhäuser when you were both still shitting in your pants. No, I’ll leave wooing the _ingénues_ to the starry-eyed youngsters.” Levi settled his coat across his shoulders and turned toward the exit. As he walked away, cane keeping a steady cadence, he called back, “Practice your legato!”

“Yes, sir!”

Before Eren could continue into his dressing room, Connie poked his head around a corner. “Is Mr. Ackerman gone?” At Eren’s nod, Connie let out a relieved sigh and stepped fully into the hall. “I’ve been trying to avoid him ever since I saw him come in with Mr. Smith and Mr. Zacharius. I thought he’d still be laid up at home tonight.”

Eren felt a sinking sensation in his stomach. “...Connie, what did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Connie protested, and then he looked around guiltily. “That’s...that’s kind of the problem. Yesterday, when I was setting up the backdrops, I was so spooked I think I came down without making sure the last one was finished being secured.” Connie crouched down and put his head in his hands. He looked up at Eren with abject misery. “When Mr. Church finds out, he’s gonna flay me alive.”

“Only if Levi doesn’t find you first.”

Connie gave a hollow laugh. “Yeah, ‘cause then there won’t be enough of me left to flay. You sure know how to cheer a fellow up, Eren.”

“I do my best.” Eren held out a hand to Connie and helped haul him back to his feet. “Look, what’s done is done. Maybe if you go throw yourself on Farlan’s mercy now, you’ll only get a mild tongue-lashing. At least half the cast and crew are convinced it was the Phantom’s fault, anyway.”

Connie nodded with a grimace and then squared his shoulders. “S’pose it’s better I go talk to him now before he figures it out for himself. Thanks, Eren.”

“Any time.” Eren watched Connie head for the stage area and then went into his dressing room where he promptly started stripping off his costume.

He’d just gotten the papier-mâché armor off when a disembodied voice rang through the room, “Bravo! Bravissimo!”

Eren grinned. “You liked the performance, then?”

“Well, the legato in the third act wasn’t as smooth as it could have been, but other than that you did very well.”

Eren stuck out his tongue at the large mirror on the wall. “Levi said the same thing. Are you going to show yourself, Angel, or just keep ogling me while I undress?”

“I’m glad to know someone else is looking out for you.” The mirror seemed to glow from within, and Eren’s reflection was replaced by the image of a taller man dressed in formal wear. His clothes were a bit old-fashioned, including a long, black opera cloak lined with red satin. Most of his face was covered by an asymmetrical mask. Only the left side from the brow-line down was visible, and the area around his mouth. The man smiled at Eren. “You’ve never said, why do you keep calling me ‘Angel?’”

Eren fastened his cufflinks. “Because you’ve never told me your name, and my mother used to tell me that there was an Angel of Music that stood guardian over singers and musicians. And you’ve been helping teach me, so…” He shrugged.

“So you think I’m an angel, then?”

“No, of course not.” Eren narrowed his eyes at the figure in the mirror. “But I don’t think you’re a phantom, either.”

“Oh?” The man sounded amused. “What makes you so sure?”

“Because ghosts don’t need a hundred francs a month.”

“Maybe I don’t _need_ it. Maybe I was a miser in life and I’m hoarding the money somewhere underneath the opera house.”

“Don’t let Connie hear that rumor; he’ll have every floorboard in the place pulled up faster than you can say ‘knife.’”

The man laughed. “I’ll remember not to tell him, then.” He seemed about to say something more, but there was a knock on the door. Eren’s head automatically turned away at the noise, and when he glanced back, the mirror had gone dark and was nothing more than a normal mirror again.

Eren sighed and whispered, “Bye, Angel,” before getting up to answer the door.

 

As soon as Eren had looked away, Marco quickly shielded his lantern, plunging the passageway behind the mirror into darkness. He watched, unseen, as Eren opened the door to reveal a richly dressed young man of about Eren’s own age. The newcomer smirked. “Eren Jaeger, where’s your scarf?”

“My what?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve lost it?” The young man put on an expression of shocked hurt. “I was fourteen and soaked to the skin…”  
  
“No one told you to run into the sea after it, you idiot. And it was Mikasa’s scarf, not mine.” The two smiled and embraced. Eren was still smiling when they parted. “It’s good to see you again, Jean. Or should I call you Monsieur le Vicomte now?”

“It’s always Jean to you.” Jean grinned. It was a cat’s grin, or a fox’s, full of hidden promise and a hint of mischief. “Now, we must celebrate your success tonight and our reunion. I’ll take you to supper. Let me go get my hat while you finish changing, and I'll meet you in two minutes.”  
  
“Two! I’ll need at least ten!”  
  
“I’ll give you five. And if you’re late, you’ll be paying the tab.”

“Ass!” Eren called out after Jean’s retreating figure as the door shut between them.

Marco watched Eren turn back to the dressing table before he picked up his lantern and slipped away quietly down the secret passage, with only the familiar darkness keeping his thoughts company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Whistles and walks nonchalantly away, pretending I hadn't just now remembered this thing existed.*


End file.
